


Blue, blue skies

by redsnake05



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-24
Updated: 2010-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragons are surprisingly warm and the sky is wide and inviting, but Charlie finds there is something missing in the towering basalt ranges of the Carparthians. Viktor can't find what he's looking for in a whirl of portkeys and anonymous hotel rooms. A shared love of the sky is a good foundation for friends, and sometimes, just sometimes, they can help you find what you need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue, blue skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [westwardlee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=westwardlee).



Charlie couldn't have told you when it started, this itch, this ache under his skin and in his bones. It chilled him at night, waking him, leaving him shaking in his narrow bed. Even on the warmest days, when he stripped off his shirt and worked under the blazing sun, feeling the tops of his shoulders browning, even then, he still felt the icy tendrils of tension inside him. He felt them as he ate, as he laughed, as he drank. They did not leave him completely even when he flew, merely growing duller under the euphoria of the sky. When he leaned his head against the cold glass of his window, late at night, watching the moon slide from horizon to horizon, they grew, enveloping him in a thick cocoon of emptiness. He was so cold, and could not shake it off, no matter how he worked, no matter how he sought fun with his friends.

The cold persisted, trailing after him wherever he went. His colleagues slapped him on the back, smiled, and handed him another tumbler of whiskey. It happened to everyone, they said. Loneliness. Then they went home, to whatever life they had carved for themselves out of the basalt of the mountains. To families, lovers, or to the silence they had come to accept. Charlie looked up at the sky, watching the clouds scud overhead, stars twinkling in the small gaps.

Charlie had never thought about what he wanted from life. He'd never gone beyond the beauty of dragons and the sky. Dragons were surprisingly warm, radiating through their thick, smooth scales, and the sky was endless and open. He'd never thought he could want more. When he'd first come here, stamping his feet down hard into the bones of the Gutai Mountains, he'd felt the earth old and powerful under his feet. The sky above had been bigger than he ever could have imagined, stretching out and open. The dragons had dwarfed his expectations. He'd loved it on sight, and now, five years long here, he would sit on his windowsill and feel the fine grain of the stone in his fingertips, the wide arch of the horizon in his lungs. It was him, now. This is who Charlie Weasley was.

The problem with loneliness in the stern embrace of the Carparthians is that it was hard to shake off. The villages were small and isolated, the reserve more so, even in the brief summer. In winter, the snow sat heavily on the ground and in the trees, and it was hard to watch the moon because of the frost on the windows. Charlie knew every warming, heating and anti-frostbite spell devised, and how to deal with hypothermia the Muggle way too, but he had no defence against this chill.

So, when, a few months after the war had ended and the summer was sliding hard towards autumn, all orange leaves and sharp frosts, Charlie answered the door and found Viktor Krum on the doorstep, it took time for his tongue to warm up to speech again. They passed a bottle backwards and forwards, sitting on the couch with the blinds drawn tight against the chilly night sky. Viktor poked the fire with enthusiasm, sighing in satisfaction as it flared and crackled. Charlie stretched his feet out towards it, enjoying the warmth rolling off it, the warmth of someone at his side. Viktor tapped his wand to both glasses, refilling them.

"What brought you, here, really?" Charlie asked, tilting his head on the back of the couch so he could watch Viktor from his comfortable sprawl. "I thought stars like you took mini-breaks from the hustle of the season by hanging out on the beaches in Monaco."

Viktor snorted. "we have been friends how long, Weasley? Since the Tournament? And still you think my tastes run to beaches?"

Charlie laughed softly. "Snowfields, then."

"And run the risk of injury?" scoffed Viktor. "No, if I am in the way, just say so, old friend."

"No," said Charlie, "you're not in the way."

"But there is something," said Viktor, eyeing him shrewdly. "I have visited you many times, since we met, and tonight you are... different. Restless, yet also happier to see me than usual."

Charlie closed his eyes, reaching up to sweep his hand over his face, as if he could brush away the lingering cobwebs of icy cold. "It's nothing, Viktor," he said. "Nothing at all." Draining his drink, he stared into the fire for a long moment. Viktor eyed him for a long moment, but said nothing further, merely letting his shoulder rest against Charlie's as he slumped more comfortably into the cushions.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

The next morning, the regular rounds of the pens seemed quicker to Charlie, his spirits lighter. The frost lifted from the grass as the sun climbed, and Charlie felt warmer than he had done in weeks, as if the sun was reaching right inside him. When Viktor slid into a seat next to him at lunchtime in the common dining hall, Charlie smiled, his whole face lighting in welcome, even as he stole a roll from Viktor's tray. Rolling his eyes, Viktor let the tray clatter to the table and immediately snatched his other roll out of reach.

"You know, Charlie, I can never understand why anyone would choose to take a mini-break anywhere other than here," he said, digging into his plate of potatoes and stew. "Voken up at dawn by the bellows of constipated dragons, discovering that your host has run out of coffee and likes to eat porridge for breakfast at unseasonable hours, then left to one's own devices for hours." He took a bite of his stew and chewed, looking thoughtful. "In fact, it is only the last that makes this place in any way supportable to human life."

"The dragon had a toothache, not constipation," said Charlie. Viktor waved him off with an airy hand gesture.

"The bellows were equal in hideous, sleep-interrupting intensity to the ones you assured me were constipation."

"The noises are similar, to a layperson. To an expert, such as myself, however, they are quite distinct." Elbowing Charlie sharply in the ribs, Viktor sent him a glance that said he was not deceived by the innocent face and lofty tone. Charlie grinned, enjoying the easy camaraderie between them. He had missed this, he realised, smile fading slightly. Looking down and taking a long breath, he let it out shakily. He loved it here, loved his colleagues, but there was something about being with a friend who could see him outside the mountains that warmed the loneliness just a little. He looked up to see Viktor watching him, the same assessing look in place, the one that Charlie had seen last night. Charlie took another shaky breath, looking back down at the table. Maybe Viktor saw him just a little too well. Viktor said nothing for a moment.

"Did you get this afternoon off?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," said Charlie, smiling with a fair assumption of his usual ease.

"Good. Rock climbing?"

"Of course," Charlie agreed. "It will do you some good to do something a little more physical than laze round on a broom." This time, Viktor's elbow to the ribs was considerably harder, and the moment passed.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

The sun was high overhead when they apparated close to the best cliff. Charlie ran the ropes through his hands, checking the braid. Viktor checked the harnesses for fraying and wear, the carabiners for defects. They traded equipment, casually handing the pieces backwards and forwards. Charlie looked up as Viktor threaded the rope through his harness. He warmed further, beaming back at Viktor as the other man smiled at him and handed over the second bag of chalk, the first already attached to Viktor's harness. Their gloves were pulled on last, stiff suede slowly warming and becoming supple as they stretched their fingers out, seeking purchase in the rocks, testing their readiness.

"So," said Viktor, "this face?" He waved at it, then back at the map. "Seems perfect."

"Doesn't it?" said Charlie. "The perfect warm up, don't you think? I should lead."

"And why is that, Charlie?" asked Viktor, eyes alight with sly laughter. "I think I should be the lead climber, don't you?"

Charlie grinned. "Hell, we're going to take turns, just like we always do, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are," answered Viktor. "And you are going to stop making cracks about how my fitness doesn't compare to yours. When we reach the top, you will be forced to concede my superiority."

"You won't be able to concede my superiority because you will be gasping in awe of it, too dazed to speak."

"You will be panting and out of breath, from the realisation that all the shovelling you do has not equipped you for exercise of this finesse."

"You will beg me to levitate you to the top, as you are forced to admit that the real challenge of real exercise is too much for your pampered physique."

They glared at each other in friendly rivalry for a few moments before Viktor reached out to slap Charlie on his shoulder. "I am so confident, you can lead first," he said.

Charlie raised his eyebrows, but did not respond. Paying out a handful of rope between his fingers, Charlie looked up at the cliff towering over them, feeling the burn of the sun through his shirt, the straps of his pack digging into his shoulders. He put his hand on the rock, letting the sharpness of the basalt sink into his fingers. He felt warmer than he had for a long time, Viktor standing behind him, ropes connecting them, entrusting them to each others' vigilance and skill. His grin was sharp, warm, certain, and he took the first handhold and started to swing himself upwards.

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

The top of the face was always trembling, watery relief, sagging onto the exposed stone with a moan, half of satisfaction, half of pain. They simply lay there for a few minutes, luxuriating in the warm sun and cool breeze, letting the sweat dry on their skin. Viktor rolled onto his side and eyed Charlie measuringly in the warm sunlight. Charlie turned his head and looked at him, stretched out long and lean on the bare ground, skin dusty and a flushed pink with exertion. It was a good look on the other man, and Charlie let his eyes wander down, ranging over Viktor's sweaty throat, his lean belly exposed as his t-shirt rode up, crisp black hair against paler olive skin. The tender skin there seemed to shiver as his breathin finally became even.

"Charlie, do you know what it means to me, to come here?"

Charlie pushed himself up, to distract himself from Viktor, and shuffled well from the edge, propping himself against a boulder, dragging his pack off as he sat. "No," he said, fossicking in his pack for the parcel of food.

Viktor joined Charlie, sitting next to him and exchanging his bag of dried fruit for some chocolate. He tipped his head back, looking up to the sky. "During the season, it is travelling, all the time. With the team, for events, portkey after portkey until even my gloves are drooping with the lag. Practices. Meetings. Events. It's all show. This." He paused. "This is the opposite of show, Charlie."

Charlie tilted his head, watching Viktor carefully, eyes bright in the mid-afternoon sun. The sky was wide and blue and endless, and Viktor's hands looked like they could encompass the whole horizon when he swept them open. "To be here, to be with you, to even _think_ of you. It is the opposite of show."

"Real," said Charlie. He watched as Viktor brought his hands back together, as if he was gathering them in to be safe. Protected.

"Yes. To know that you are here, dragon hide under your fingers, rock solid below you, sky boundless above... well, it. well." Viktor stopped, looking embarrassed. "I'm lonely," he said, at last, voice quiet. "All those people, all those places, all for show. Only this is real."

Charlie could feel the last little bits of cold tension inside him dissolve. He looked at Viktor, whose face radiated nervousness. Charlie had no idea why he had never seen Viktor like this before, why he had never _let_ himself see Viktor like this. Breath catching in his chest, Charlie held out his hand for the chocolate, curling his fingers around Viktor's to pull the bar closer. He took a bite before letting go, slowly, feeling the tingle of the brief contact all the way down his arm. He definitely should have seen this before.

"What do you want, Charlie Weasley?" asked Viktor, eyes very intent.

"This is home. But. I'm so lonely, Viktor. So goddamn lonely." Their eyes met. Charlie could see the swift assessment flash through Viktor's eyes, see him weigh up what Charlie had said, what he had left unsaid.

"This is not my home. Not now. I have no home. But," said Viktor, drawing in a deep breath and leaning closer.

"Maybe, maybe you can share mine," finished Charlie. Their shoulders touched, bodies turning towards each other. Viktor ran his hand up Charlie's arm, over his shoulder and into the hair at the back of his head, shifting him slightly as he leaned closer. Their lips met, gently, tasting of chocolate and salt. Charlie opened his mouth, easing his tongue into Viktor's mouth, letting the kiss unfold as softly and lazily as the breeze. Charlie's hands came up slowly to clutch Viktor's shoulders, leaning closer so their chests brushed together.

"Nice," said Viktor, drawing back just a little. "Why have we never thought of this before?"

"I have no idea," said Charlie, "but we should have." He tugged Viktor closer again, into a short, hot kiss.

"If we're going to do this, shall we move further from the edge?" asked Viktor, stroking his fingers down Charlie's neck. Charlie looked at him, the dark eyes burning with passion, the happy curve to his lips, the utterly annoying equipment still attached to him, that would be horrible to try to fumble off. He didn't want to move from where they were, spread out on top of the world under a quilt of blue and sunshine, wrapped up warm and safe and snug.

"Let's go home," he said. Viktor smiled wickedly and pulled out his wand, banishing their clothes and equipment to an untidy pile next to them. Charlie grinned at him. "Nice," he said, appreciatively, happy to stay, happy that Viktor wanted to stay. Gliding his hand up Viktor's thigh, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Viktor's neck. Viktor tilted his head to the side, letting Charlie nibble down his neck, reaching his fingers out to brush over Charlie's nipples. He grinned at Charlie's indrawn breath then hissed as Charlie sank his teeth into the tender skin of Viktor's throat.

Charlie pressed his advantage, tracing his hands over the exposed planes of Viktor's body, enjoying the sun beating down on them and the rough grass and stone below them, anchoring them. His hand closed around Viktor's cock, and he revelled in the low groan and stream of Bulgarian that Viktor emitted. Then Viktor pushed him back, swinging his leg over Charlie to settle on his lap, capturing Charlie's mouth again. Charlie tilted his head back, grasping Viktor's hips and dragging him forward, into better contact. Viktor groaned, pulling back once more and scrabbling for his wand. He muttered a charm and let the wand clatter back to the ground as he slicked lube over both their erections before wrapping his hand around them as best he could. Now Charlie groaned, bringing his own hand down to join Viktor's.

Resting one hand on Viktor's nape, Charlie brought their foreheads together, losing himself in the feeling of their hands rubbing over their cocks. It felt so good, so warm and intimate, to be there together, bare under the sun and sky. He moved slightly, rubbing his nose against Viktor's face, drinking in the little moans and whimpers, the hitch in his breathing. He turned his face into Viktor's throat, breathing in the scent of sweat, stone and chalk on his skin, listening to the half-mumbled phrases in Bulgarian that tumbled out of him. Viktor's other hand slid into Charlie's hair, tugging his head back so they could kiss again. Charlie felt the connection between them flow strong and hot even as his orgasm started to build in him. With a wild moan, he let it overcome him, tearing through him and leaving him breathless even as he felt Viktor's teeth catch his jaw as he shook his way through his own orgasm.

They caught their breath slowly, leaning against each other and their boulder, pressing slow kisses to cheek and jaw and neck, hands soothing over shoulders and down backs. Finally, Viktor pushed himself back, fumbling for his wand again. "Not good for my knees," he groaned, standing slowly.

"Old man," taunted Charlie, grinning maliciously, until he tried to stand and nearly fell over. Viktor shook his head and hit them both with cleaning charms.

"Put your clothes on," he said. "I want a shower."

&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;

"Afternoon practice?" asked Charlie, handing over a plate of eggs and toast. Viktor nodded his agreement, carrying the plate to the table before heading back to get two big mugs of coffee. Charlie watched him, remembering his own eggs belatedly. He came to the table, setting down his plate next to Viktor's and running his hand over Viktor's shoulder as he sat down. The sun was just starting to peep in the window and the wood-burning stove was blazing, staving off the chill. Viktor's hand closed over Charlie's for a moment, and Charlie felt a shiver of happiness run through him.

"2 o'clock. In Skopje. At least during the national club season we only have to travel around Bulgaria. In the winter, when we play the European club circuit, it gets tiring." He buttered another piece of toast and chewed thoughtfully.

"I hope you'll find the time to recuperate between games," said Charlie, sipping his coffee and wincing a little at the heat on his tongue. He could remember how even that little touch of warmth would have been something to treasure just a few days ago. Now he reached across Viktor for the pepper and smiled in the slowly-warming air of his little kitchen. The cottage seemed cheerful this morning, all edged in light from the candles and lamps, the first, tentative rays of the sun that would later beat down on him.

"I hope I will be able to come here," said Viktor simply. "Even if someone has made it a little hard for me to sit this morning."

Charlie grinned around his mouthful of eggs. Swallowing quickly, he said, "It's not like I'm going to be volunteering for any rough dragon rides today, either! Someone got a bit carried away in the bathroom."

Viktor answered the grin and took a hearty mouthful of eggs "You look good, steamy and damp," he said. "You look good all the time."

They finished their breakfast in silence, passing each other the salt and butter with the ease of long companionship. Viktor would come to Charlie, Charlie would be here for him, and Charlie felt warm all the way through at the thought. He looked out the window, seeing the sky opening up, as blue as forever, as clear and true as a promise.


End file.
